Tag Archives: friendship

Years ago, we ripped out a poison ivy-riddled forsythia hedge that separated the back garden from the neighbor’s back yard. The poison ivy clearly added no charm, and the five foot wide hedge cramped the style of the 20 foot deep garden. So – out came the hedge and in went the four-foot picket fence. Now the question: what would be the perfect vine to climb the fence, soften the boundary and create some privacy?

After a year of the annual hyacinth bean vine (which proved gorgeous but slightly ill-behaved and slightly poisonous), I chose coral honeysuckle (lonicera sempervirens). This native beauty remains, as its Latin name indicates, semi-evergreen here in zone 6b, so it continues to provide some privacy even when everything else bares its bones. So, quite adequate for winter. But boy, does it satisfy the other three seasons. It greens up in early spring, then, around April, sends out a waterfall of coral blossoms that colors my spring garden and sings its siren song to the neighborhood hummingbirds. It continues to bloom all season long – even now in November, I have some blossoms. This year, I’ve noticed a bonus fall feature – beautiful red berries which I assume will last for the next few months.

As if the blooms and the berries weren’t enough, the foliage is two toned: warm green on the front of the leaf, silvery on the back. The effect is a variegated look that adds depth and texture to what is, underneath, a boring wood fence.

Oh, and it’s native to the eastern U.S., so it grows to a nice 20 feet but doesn’t take over the world like it’s yellow cousin, lonicera japonica.

All this perfection and I use it as a background plant? Afraid it’s true. What a luxury, though, to have a true superstar in the background. What decadence to have a plant you can count on to tie your garden together, to bloom without coddling, to fill in the holes when other specimens prove finicky. It’s like having a true friend who you talk to sporadically and see rarely, but who you know is there nonetheless.

I am blessed to have a few such friends, but one has been on my mind of late. We met during our first week of college when we both turned up to watch Simon and Garfunkel’s Concert in Central Park in a hallmate’s dorm room. We ended up living together for the next three years, years that saw changes in majors, changes in boyfriends, and two young women finishing their growing up. Since college we enjoyed just a few years of living in the same town, but most of the time has been spent a half-day’s car ride, a cross-country plane ride, or a transatlantic flight apart. With two husbands, seven children, one and a half jobs, loads of responsibilities and the entire continental United States between us, our talks are rare and our visits rarer. And yet, we remain close friends. A quick phone call last week reminded me of the important role she plays in my life. Because of 20 years of friendship, 15 minutes on the phone was enough to get to real things, not just the surface stuff we’re stuck with a lot of the time.

I appreciate the superstars who sometimes live in the background – of my garden and of my life. They add beauty, depth and stability. My world wouldn’t be the same without them.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a gardener in possession of a lovely plant will not be in want of a friend. (Forgive me, Jane Austen).

Courtney's Cabbage

Okay, here’s the story. I promised myself when I started this blog that I would never post an ugly picture. In my quest to find blooms around me even in January in Philadelphia, I knew I would want to address the ornamental cabbage. The problem lies in the fact that I, as rule, find ornamental cabbages quite unattractive. To me, they look faded and dirty and wilted. Especially the white ones. I kept my eyes peeled for said cabbages, anyway, tending to find them only in roadside beds in front of WholeFoods, the high rise condos, the cabinet company, the reformed temple, the outdoor mall. No pretty pictures to be had here. Never mind the fact that I would have to risk life and limb to park, get out of the car, and take a picture on the major thoroughfares of the Delaware Valley. I guess these establishments contract with landscaping companies to rip out the faded vincas or impatiens at the end of the growing season and plant up row upon row of ornamental cabbage. Winter color, hey, I love it. But these guys are just ugly.

Or, so I thought until I took a nice, sunny walk around my neighborhood the other day. I had been searching for these cabbages (officially a kale species, fyi) in residential landscapes, but was coming up woefully short. They seemed resigned to their destiny as strip mall accessories. But there they were in front of a neighbor’s home, just two of them, thriving in pots perfectly sized and suited to their particular mounding growth habit. The containers lifted them off the ground and highlighted them as specimens, rather than trying to make them work as mass plantings. They flanked the front porch and actually looked pretty. Pretty enough to photograph, even.

Cabage contained.

The car was in the driveway and the front door was ajar, so I figured I’d knock and ask permission to take a picture. I didn’t want any startled homeowner calling the cops because of the strange woman trapsing about the yard. A cute toddler came to the door and tried valiantly to let me in. Soon came the mom, who very graciously agreed to my request and then said, “Hey! Don’t our kids go to the same preschool?” Indeed they do. We’d been at the same school for a few years, but in different classes, so our paths had never crossed directly. We needed a cabbage to bring us together! Now I have a pretty picture of a cabbage and a new friend. Gardens are so great.

Welcome!

I garden on a tiny piece of land just outside of Philadelphia (zone 6b). My goal is to connect two of my passions: life out of doors and a good story. I keep my eyes open to the beauty around me and hope to capture it with words and my trusty Canon elph. Enjoy.

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